


Awakening

by iluvaqt



Category: Wonder Woman (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Lost Love, Survival, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-03
Updated: 2017-07-15
Packaged: 2018-11-13 04:46:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11177337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iluvaqt/pseuds/iluvaqt
Summary: Steve survives the explosion, of a sort.





	1. Headwind

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Liberties taken with Greek mythology and this is a work of fantasy fiction. All characters and settings belong to their respective creators. No money is being made from this. A work purely for fan indulgence and not for profit.

It took him longer than he'd like to climb, he felt his heart pounding behind his ribs. He felt each breath and feared for what would happen if he didn't reach a safe distance away. His colleagues, a misfit band of men, who'd followed him into war with the promise of money but had each proven that they'd follow him at their risk of their lives. He counted them as friends. He had so few whom he could describe as such. They would die on that airfield. Even if he got rid of the gas, there were still the enemy soldiers below. And Diana. 

A picture of her all golden, bright eyes, skin glistening with sweat yet breaktakingly perfect, taken with pleasure a stride him, blazed in his mind's eye. The image that followed was her beautiful brown eyes wide, her dark brows pinched  in worry and confusion. 

_"What are you saying?"_

_"I wish we had more time. I have to go. I love you."_

Those were his last words and his only regret was that he hadn't realized it and told her sooner. She was a rare kind of person, so innocent about the world, yet so convicted and strong in her beliefs and her sense of duty. No matter the circumstances or obstacles in her way, she would press forward. He admired her strength of heart. She cared so much, for everyone. Genuinely cared. Not just for their physical health but their souls. She had wanted them to be free from Ares, believing completely that they were prisoners of his design and corruption. He had always known the truth and yet he'd let her keep her ideals because he'd been to afraid of that look. Of Diana looking at him with fresh understanding, that dawning horror and despair. Her innocence and purity tainted by the reality of war. Their war. The disillusion and heartbreak when she finally understood that they weren't inherently good, that everyone was capable of darkness. Of hate and evil.

He'd done a lot of questionable things in his life. Things in the name of his country and liberty, duty, and for the protection of others. Acts that sold his spy cover. Lies he'd told the unsuspecting, so he could make his own life easier. Women he'd hurt, men he'd used. He wondered if it made a difference that he had regrets in that regard. That he would have made his own journey harder, taken the more difficult route had it meant others would have not gotten caught up or paid a steep price for crossing paths with him.

He wondered if this act would mean he'd be forgiven for wrongs he'd done. Did it even work that way? Did good balance out the bad? There was nothing but the rumbling of the loud turbines and inky endless sky to answer him.

As he looked back at the ominous missiles swaying behind him, he hoped it would be quick. He never fancied dying a slow painful death. And death by asphyxiation or burning had always seemed like a torturously slow way to go.

He pulled the trigger. There was a flash of heat and a pressure so great he immediately felt and knew no more.

::: ::: :::

In the water she had always felt welcome. It was a second skin. No matter the ocean, she never felt a chill, nor the wrinkles of over hydration. Salt or fresh, the liquid caressed and rippled over her body like cascading silk.

The sea thrashed and rolled around her, in answer to the energy that crackled and boomed in the sky above.

Thunder and lightning. Signs of battle. Signs of war. The gods at war. Zeus and Ares. He had asked her to choose. They'd all been forced to choose. When she'd seen the truth of his plans, how could she side with him? No matter their past or the debt he felt she owed him, she would not be a party to the destruction of humankind.

There was also the child Ares didn't know about. The child that only her husband knew of and had forgiven her for. They had been childless for so many ages. And her heart yearned for the gift that had been given so many others. But her husband, old as he was, could not give her children. Perhaps that's why he forgave her many infidelities. She had lost her first born and only child centuries before, and the grief had made her withdraw from the world for a time. Perhaps her absence had made Ares influence over the will of man so strong. For without love, fear, hate and anger could fester and grow freely.

When she had surfaced and seen the great spread and increased colonisation of humankind, it wasn't to marvel over their creations or their successes but what awaited her was a crippling heartbreak as she witnessed the bloodlust in so many, and the fear induced hate in others. The end result was the same, lives lost and innocents suffering. So much blood that the earth had been soaked and grown fertile with it, but it's yield only a sickly and weak imitation of its true form.

Her heart was wounded by the evidence of destruction Ares had wrought, so much so that she swore never to go to him again. No matter what honeyed words he whispered or promises of love and beauty he swore. His words were wind. His actions were mightier than Zeus’ thunder and his poisoned whispers left a trail of razing destruction.

There was no love in him. None at all.

In her mind’s eye, she remembered it like it was only a moon past. It was in the midst of sheltering a group of women, young and old, from a band of savage looking painted men that she first saw him. And when remarkably, with only the art of quick wits and remarkable deception, he managed to overcome six men with the aid of two of the braver younger women, she had been impressed by him.

For days he traveled with the women through dangerous territory, offering game and drink to them first before caring for himself, until the party reached  at town protected by forces they recognised as friendly. 

Only then did he collapse and allow himself to succumb to exhaustion and pain. It was then she learned of his wound. He had a mortal wound. It had only been a small cut, but it had festered.

He was a mortal. One man. But in his delirium, when the infection had overtaken him, she had tended to him. Healed him. And in the state between fever induced dream and peaceful sleep, her gentle touch had stirred him. And he'd taken her with a passion she hadn't considered that a man of his state could possess. She could have dismissed his advance with a single touch to his head, rendering him unconscious but it had been so long that she'd allowed herself to feel anything but grief that she let his passion awaken her own. And the desire and gentleness in his kisses gave stirrings to love and that gave seed to something more.

Months later she returned to him. Carrying the child she had birthed from their union. He had been both surprised and delighted to see her. He thought her an apparition, the wistful conjuring of a dying man. 

His joy soon gave way to bitterness when he realized that she would not stay and that he would be left to raise the child on his own. He scoffed at her talk of gods and called her shameful names.

She understood his heart and she didn't curse him for his cruelty. Instead she blessed him and the child.

She promised long life and happiness, she would see to it.

Only when she allowed him to watch her fade from sight before him and the understanding and acceptance dawn, did his expressions change from one of anger to one of wonderment and love as he took in their son.

A son born of love.

A son that fought for the same ideals as his father. Protection of the innocent. The safety of many with little regard for his own life.

The debris hit the water above her and she felt her heart lurch when his body made contact.

His heart beat no longer and most of his clothing had burned off, part of his face was marred with melted tissue and he sunk through the waves like a broken toy.

With great care she drew him close and cradled him gently.

"I have you, my son. You are safe now, rest," she whispered against the charred strands of what had been once feather soft, golden hair. He would be whole again. Ares' insatiable thirst for war had taken her last son from her, he would not have another.

 

 


	2. That Which Surrounds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His name is Stephanos.

What's in a name? For some it is so easily discarded and forgotten, changed and left as no more than a footnote in history. For others it is overly long, added and stretched on till the pride and respect their ancestors earned is lost in exhaustive salutations. For others it is a stamp of identity. A gifted destiny bestowed before conscious thought is even comprehensible gift. 

_"His name is Stephanos. For it was your victories that drew me to you, and your passion that surrounded and vanquished my grief and gave him life. He is bound to me, born of my body, blood of my blood and as long as he breathes, I breathe and I, he. He has my protection and my love for all of my days. For in my word as a daughter of Gaia, it will be so."_

James did not keep the name. Or perhaps he had misunderstood her pronouciation. Truthfully they had not done much conversing in one another's company. 

Hippolyta's child, Diana, had called him Steve. But she had heard others call him Steven. Not so different from Stephanos as she had named him, she conceded with a slight frown as she brushed away the long bangs hiding part of his face from her view.

The farm house had been abandoned in haste. Probably months ago from the thick layer of dust coating every surface and the well ransacked stores. There were no candles or food to be found. Not that she required either.

She had watched him grow, knew every crease and wrinkled in his care worn face. She gathered herbs from the woods nearby and mixed pastes to apply to his burns. Hera thought her just a pretty face and form. Athena thought her empty headed too dismissing her for her courtesies and pleasant smiles, but she knew her place. And she knew how to get what she wanted without upsetting the delicate balance of peace that was always teetering on the edge of betrayal and war. She had bonded with Demeter in her grief over absent loved ones. She was a good listener and it was her nature to provide comfort and feelings of acceptance, feelings of love. So she learned from a master healer, and from her bond with Gaia, she had an instinctive understanding of nature. It's also how she learned to avoid Ares when she wanted to escape his notice.

Nature shivered, chilled and withered in the shadow of fear and death. And where there was stirrings of war, death always followed.

Themyscira, Paradise Island as the gods named it, was a jewel in Gaia's girdle. At the heart of the world and safely hidden from anyone who's intent was to harm those under Zeus' protection.

She helped crave its cascading waterfalls and rivers that fed its groves and lush gardens. She had known of the parting gift Zeus left the Queen of the Amazons. A lasting promise of protection, a final shield should he fail in quelling Ares thirst for war.

When she learned of Stephanos plan to infiltrate the enemies' ranks as a spy, she feared his need to atone for his years of inaction and philandering would get him killed. Already his recklessness as a pilot in the U.S. Air Force ferrying supplies to scattered troops had tallied more than one near miss on his dossier.

His escape from Ares' scientist's base had been careful manipulation of both Hermes and herself. She'd had to give up the location of her secluded hot springs to enlist his help. Hermes made sure every person was where they were meant to be and others who needed to be absent in order for her son to succeed in his mission and make his escape. Seems even gods needed a place for perfect foot therapy to avoid stressed Achilles' tendons or crocodile heels.

When it became obvious that his plane would go down in enemy waters, she had cajoled a Pegasus to keep him aloft long enough to breech the protection of Themyscira.

Her interference was certain to be discovered if she lingered so she had left their waters as soon as she had seen Hippolyta's daughter dive from the cliff.

Her son would be safe with the Amazonians. They would not turn away someone in need of protection. It was their duty to protect humankind. They were the protectors, the peace keepers, the race bridging the divide between god and mortal.

And he had been safe. Diana of Themyscira had protected him, aided him, fought at his side and been his fierce sword and shield. Until she had had her own battle to win and Stephanos had chosen his.

"My light, my child," she sang sweetly. "Love has saved you."

His heart grew stronger under her touch and she felt warmth return to his skin. The paste coated most of his face but she knew underneath that his skin had begun to heal. Her blood that pulsed in his veins aiding in his recovery. 

While she lived he drew strength from her and while he breathed, her power only grew. They were bound, of the same blood and same heart. 

But while he was a part of her, he was also part mortal. His father had been a mortal man, who had passed years ago. It was a heart attack that crippled the once strong and brave man and ultimately took his life that spurred their son into action and he joined the Air Force to fight for his country soon after.

Her son would need nourishment. She was no skilled hunter like Artemis or a warrior like the Amazons but she could defend herself and meet the needs of those in her care. Shrouding herself in a cloak that made her appear an stooped old woman, she went back into the forest.

It was while crouched over a pair of felled hare, that she felt the sharp of a battle sword inch under her chin. Despite the way its well oiled surface caught the moonlight, she felt no fear.

"You are to come willingly if you wish for us to leave your companion untouched."

Amazons surrounded her and they were so skilled that she hadn't even heard a whisper of their approach. 

"If I leave with you, he will be vulnerable," she reasoned with regal calm.

The Amazonian tracker was unmoved, the tall dark skinned woman took a dagger and pressed it into her side. To her surprise, it not only rent her silks but pierced her skin. It had been many years since she'd felt the sting of physical pain. Her heart quickened in her chest and she breathed a name, "Hephaestus."

"Our Queen desires words with you. We leave at once."

Her head bowed, she moved at their urging, her soul torn. Her fear for her son, mingled with fear for her own fate. It seemed she would answer for her betrayal, sooner rather than later. And just what her powerful, estranged husband thought of her actions and whereabouts were telling in that he had gifted the Amazons a true god-killer.


	3. Isabel Maru

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We can't escape who we are.

His father was patient, he knew subtleties worked better than force. He understood the Art of War. He was the master strategist. So why he had gambled everything on a woman, or two women to be precise, he could not understand.

In the war of the gods, his had lost his twin and following the last battle he had been separated from Ares for a time. His father being defeated by Zeus, had fallen into a dark pit and disappeared from the world of mortals. But he'd been a dutiful son, he'd continued his father's business. Fostered the right individuals, built stable investments to fill the right pockets, and feed the right industry. But he wasn't the patient type. He thrived on terror and his face was never more terrible that right before an unsuspecting victim learned of their imminent fate. Sudden terror was the sweetest. Waiting was only possible when he was being fed in the meantime, so he frequently walked the prison camps to keep himself grounded and sated.

As Ares fought Diana, he had waited in agitation for his opening. To strike her down, cripple her with terror. He had nurtured the belief in her friends that there was no other way. That the gas had to be destroyed. And then he'd waited. Hoping watching her mortal love would destroy her hope, her strength to fight. The horror and pain had been glorious. But it hadn't weakened her. She had even refused to finish the woman who'd created the poison. Deimos raged when she had destroyed his father, his scream covered by the energy that burned and exploded in the atmosphere as she returned the lightening she had collected as a child of Zeus.

He faded from the battlefield in retreat. He could not battle her and win in single combat. That was not his strength. His strength lay in manipulations and he would find a way to orchestrate her downfall. He would avenge his father and continue his work.

Humankind would fall. They were weak and easily lead. But he needed to see to Diana first. Then he would find and destroy the Amazons. They would never again stand in his way.

And he saw one piece in the game, slinking off through the trees as though the hounds of death were at her heels. He smiled cruelly and quickly followed her.

::: ::: :::

Isabel ran on until her lungs burned and her legs collapsed under her weight. Still the thundering of her heart forced her trembling limbs to get up and continue on. What were they? The power of those beings. They were not human. So much strength, so much power. The energy they had command over. Elements that could not be safely contained or controlled by any person she had even read or witnessed in her life. The gas she'd given the general seemed to have some unexplained qualities, it had provided her with more endurance, mental alertness. The ability to go without sleep or the need to eat but for the general it had been something more. She hadn't had to courage to ask him to test his abilities, but she knew that it had given him increased strength. All her research had been destroyed at the hanger but she still had a small container of the capsules in her coat pocket. She could begin new research.

But where? Her association with the general had earned her a notoriety with both enemies of Germany and within their own ranks. Her face and her name were easily recognizable everywhere. She would be hunted. Someone would help. There had to be those that understood that there was an even greater threat than the Allies now. Beings of unimaginable power. Persons that could conquer the world single-handedly should they desire it. They needed to find a way to arm themselves against this threat. Their future survival depended on it. Perhaps some of the like minds that the general had gathered for his demonstration. All she needed was one connected and wealthy investor.

A darkened farm house came into view. Chilled through from both the night air and the things she had witnessed, she was startled by the warmth that washed her face as soon as she wrenched the door open.

With the state of the weed over run garden and empty barn outside, she hadn't expected the residence to be occupied. There on the thread bare couch lay the German officer that had tried to woo her away from General Ludendorff. Only for his attention to be turned by the beautiful woman. A woman she now knew to be the inhumanly powerful warrior. At first she believed him to be like all weak minded men lured by a physical beauty but now she mused if there was something more to that look. Perhaps it had been a look of recognition.  Had he known who she was? What she was?

He was injured, but his breathing was regular and his colour was healthy. Someone had cared for him but she could find no sign of anyone else in the cottage and there had been no one in the woods she had passed through on her way.

If he woke and found her here, what would he do? She needed shelter for the night while she decided whom she could approach for aid.

She slept fitfully through the night and at first light she edged downstairs. Skirting around the steps the creaked, knowing which ones after making an awful amount of noise climbing them the night before.

The man on the lounge hadn't even stirred, it looked as though he hadn't moved at all.

A rumbling and revving alerted her to approach vehicles and she hurried to the window, glancing between a small gap in the drapes to remain unseen. The officers in the trucks were in German uniforms, they were all armed.

Knowing they would enter the cottage by force anyway, she went out to meet them.

"My name is Dr. Maru, I escaped when our weapons facility was attacked and destroyed by enemy combatants."

Ludendorff, himself climbed out of the vehicle followed by a lieutenant that he signalled to lead a search of the grounds. "Dr. Maru, I am relieved to see you unharmed. Come my dear. We have suffered a set back but our work is far from over. As always, with my dedication to our Socialist regime and your brilliance with science to further our governance we will win over our adversaries yet."

Her hopes soared at seeing him. When the watchtower had exploded she had accepted his death with a heavy heart. Using her anger and bitter disappointment to spur her into executing their plan with haste before they could be stopped.

She nodded in eagerness. Turning back to the open doorway she pointed inside. "There is a man with burns inside. He may have been a survivor from the explosion at the airfield. I saw him at the gala. He was interested in my work."

With a wave the General signalled his men to retrieve the man from inside. 

::: :::

Naturally they needed to know more about him. A thorough search of his person yielded little information. Someone had obviously rescued him and tended to his wounds, since he was dressed in clothing that was too small for his frame and was without boots and he hadn't regained consciousness the entire trip across country to their new weapons facility.

As a final resort to hasten his return to wakefulness, she had dosed him with her 'vitality' gas. The effect was instantaneous and more impressive was the resulting shock-wave. When the General had used the gas the first time, the room had shaken and he'd been able to bend steel. The first time she had taken it, her mind had cleared and she had been able to work without sleep or the need for food for three days straight. But afterward, she had crashed hard and nothing had roused her, not the alarm, not the sun and it was only 14 hours later, dry mouthed and a painful gnawing hunger, she had blinked at a late afternoon sky and peeled herself from her cot at the back of her laboratory. 

Ludendorff started his questioning immediately, giving the man no time to orient himself from his roughly awakened state. "You were part of the group that infiltrated our facility. Who do you work for? The British? The Americans? You're not German, or I would know your face. I know every man in my division."

The man forced a half smile and she felt a twinge in her stomach. There was no denying he was handsome, and he knew how to be charming, she had felt the draw of his undivided attention from the gala. It had been flattering, captivating. She wondered if she should mention meeting him. She had no had a chance to bring it up with the General before, but she wanted him to have no doubt of her loyalty.

"I believe he is a spy. He approached me at the gala to try and persuade come to join him. He said he admired my work."

"And so it should be, my dear," Ludendorff said. "Why help him if you think him a traitor to our cause?"

"With the bandages, I did not recognise him," she said firmly, her accent got thicker when she was upset and her words sounded slurred but she was determined for her superior to understand that she had never been tempted to accept his offer, not even for a moment.

Ludendorff caressed her scarred cheek. There had been no time to source another mask. The one she'd lost was a custom build. When she ventured outside, she wore a scarf that had once belonged to her mother. Her mother had owned many in various colours and styles and she had worn one at all times. Before she'd been killed. Executed by her own people as an assumed traitor. 

“We will get answers my dear. In the mean time, perhaps we could turn that wonderful intellect to a new project. One that would be of more immediate benefit. It seems our friend here, needs some persuasion to loosen his tongue."

"I don't know what you want from me?" the man said. His eyes were clear and without guile. His focus shifted, assessing all points of the room. His posture was taught, alert and tuned to flight. 

Perhaps his injuries had damaged his memory? "What do you last recall?" she asked.

The man closed his eyes and took a deep breath and let it out. His brow wrinkled in concentration and the furrow between his eyebrows deepened when he was apparent that whatever he was searching for was distressing. "I don't know. There's a flash and I think water?"

"What is your name?" Ludendorff.

The man jerked and his hands fisted instinctively at the barked command. "I- I don't know." His brows pinched in confusion. "Why can't I remember?"

Ludendorff turned away abruptly muttering to himself. But as he walked by her, she was sure she heard him say, "the venom should not have that side effect."

It took weeks but she finally had a breakthrough that seemed to have the desired effect. In the mean time she found their captive to be intelligent, resourceful, stubborn but not ruthless. He had tried to escape several times but refused to kill anyone. And it seemed his initial response had been truthful. He didn't remember there former meeting, or anything about himself or what had caused his injuries. Ludendorff had seemed convinced that he was in the attacking party, so he was kept under guard at all times.

She gave Ludendorff that syringe. "I have trialled it on him. He thinks it is a memory enhancer. I believe it has yielded the results you desire."

"Wonderful. I have a subject who thought he could betray my interests. We will test it on him."

The look on his face was terrible and it sent a delightful shiver down her spine. She never admired him and feared him more than when he was on the cusp of tasting triumph. She would have her justice. The Americans would pay for destroying her family. Her father had been a brilliant and well respected chemist, and her mother a talented botanist. They were a wealthy family living in Pakistan in peace and relative anonymity. Then two Americans had visited her parents and tried to persuade them to join the American government chemical research division. They said it was to work with pesticides and genetic augmentation to grow, healthier stronger plants, but her mother had seemed horrified and hurried speech in father's native Spanish tongue ensued. The Americans left, but only days later, her parents were branded spies working for the German government. All their research was seized and when they found what they believed to be incriminating and dangerous research in her father's notes, they executed them both. But not before they made her father watch, as they first took her mother's hands, and then her head. Her father had made her swear to flee to his brother in Spain and never come back, but she only stayed with him to finish her studies. Soon after her graduation, she walked into Heidelberg University in the first days after Germany declared war on Russia and delivered her results of her stealth attack on the Pakistan officials that sentenced her parents as traitors. She had killed them all with a untraceable poison that caused a heart attack in its victim within seconds, odorless and almost tasteless. She had no way to know with certainty since the subjects didn't survive long enough to be questioned about it.

Her path was sealed from that day. She hadn't been able to find those Americans yet, but she would. She would always remember what they sounded like. So arrogant and forceful. They would learn fear. And before the end, they would taste her vengeance.

 


	4. Regrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hippolyta's judgement and Steve's future.

The journey to the island took longer than she would have managed. What took her mere moments had taken days even with good winds and strong sails. The warriors had taken shifts to maintain alertness and that blasted dagger had not left her side. The wound, inflicted by the warrior whom she now knew to be Artemis, itched and burned, and whether it was with intent or by accident with the rocking of their vessel, it would reopen every time the sharp point of the dagger met her flesh. No, there would be no relief. The wound would continue to bother her until she reached their destination, for there was no chance it would heal until she tended to it properly.

Horses were waiting for them upon their arrival and fresh guards to escort her to the royal court. Hippolyta stood above her subjects when she was brought in. When she was forced to her knees, her arms still bound she stumbled and would have fallen gracelessly to the floor had strong hands not caught her.

She knew those hands. They were worn, wrinkled, deeply calloused and scarred, but powerful hands that forged with fire, stone and steel. Her throat closed, clogging with ache and sadness, grief for the pain she was no doubt causing him. With determination she raised her eyes to look at him. He had a regal but aged face. And those eyes, it was said that the eyes were windows to a one’s soul. Though he was always marked with soot, the scent of smoke and sulphur deeply imbedded in his pores, he face lined harshly from the volatile environment in which he worked, he had kind eyes. And amidst her most treasured memories, she remembered his paw-like hands cradling the most fragile of things, a hummingbird egg or the way he brushed and braided her long hair. He hummed as he brushed and carded his fingers through, always patient and gentle. He imagined and crafted all manner of weapons, instruments of war but he also forged armor and other rare gifts. Like the Lasso of Truth. An unbreakable weave of the finest chords of rare metal interwoven with strands of her own golden hair. It had been a gift to the Amazons, to ensure man's submission if the threat of man's war were ever to come to their island. For she had the power to bend any man to her will if she desired it.

Her husband stretched out one of his hands that dwarfed even Artemis' large ones waiting for his dagger's return. He placed it inside the folds of his tunic and then returned his grip to her arms. She always felt tiny next to him. His legs were thin like stunted saplings, it was only at the aid of a marvel of his own ingenuity that he could support the bulk of his powerful upper body at all. The metal girdle about his waist helped defy gravity's pull. He stood for days as he laboured away at his work without his legs failing him because of its aid.

"Diana took our away our gift of truth, but I trust you will not lie in the presence of the one who has pleaded for you life to be spared," the Queen intoned with steel in her voice.

Aphrodite twitched a smile that she should have suppressed but the irony of them wishing to use the lasso on her was too much. "Has it been so long that you have forgotten who gifted you the lasso, Hippolyta? I freely admit that I saved my son, but I broke none of your laws. After all, is it not the sworn duty of any Amazon to protect humankind? I brought him to your island for protection."

"And in doing so, threatened the lives of the Amazons and brought death to our shores. My sister died protecting our people," the Queen roared quietly, her voice echoing in the cavernous room.

"I won't apologise for wanting my son to live," she said her eyes filling with tears.

Hippolyta was unmoved. "He was one man. We lost dozens who had no part in his war. He confessed to being a spy, and his enemies followed him here. I can understand his resistance to the lasso now, but in the end he was compelled. His truth took Diana away from our protection, and into the heart of their war and their world. She is lost to us now. Your death would not bring back what we have lost. But your actions must be punished. For your part in the loss of Amazonian lives, you will be imprisoned here for the rest of your days."

With growing fear, Aphrodite struggled to her feet and broke the bindings on her arms. If only she could get to the water, she would be free.

But Hephaestus kept an unbreakable hold of her wrists and he placed something heavy around her wrists in place of his fingers. "I never bound you to me, wife. That was a mistake. Your infidelities bore blights on this world and for that, I will not forgive you or myself."

"Eros had no hatred in his heart. He wanted no part of violence or war and Stephanos is part mortal. He is corrupted by those around him but I can save him."

"It is not your beloved half god-child, of whom I speak. It is a shame your beloved Ares can not answer for his evils but you are not innocent and you will answer for yours. Just as I will for mine. Come."

Aphrodite shook him off, his touch had gentled after he had placed the gauntlets on her arms and it was enough that she could flee. With a desperate and swift shove, she broke through the guards at the foot of the stairs and used her power to shake the earth beneath them. Hippolyta fell to the ground along with everyone else and she lept the last few stairs to the waterfall at the end of the cavern. As soon as her toes touched the water the metal about her wrists burned.

She hissed at the deep lingering pain that momentarily stole her breath away and stepped back from the water. She turned her wild and horrified gaze on her husband and then turned a her eyes to the Queen of the Amazons. She willingly knelt before no one but she did so now. The thought of being bound, confined, with no way to follow his steps or protect him, her entire body shook with indefinable emotions. Fear for him, the image of his torture, maiming, never knowing the truth of himself, being unable to learn of his fate playing out vividly before her eyes. Eventually they would kill him, and he would be tossed aside with no one to mourn or bury him.

"No. You can not keep me here. I left him there. He is wounded and alone. They will find him."

"He is not your concern. He is a man grown and his choices are his own to make. Just as you must carry the weight of yours," Hippolyta said coming to her side. "We will not chain you, but if you try to harm any of my people, I will put you in the pits and you will be starved of the water you so love and any chance of seeing the stars of your ancestors."

The earth beneath her feet shifted and swept feeling her distress and the painful turmoil of her heart, the agony she felt. Gaia grieved with her. "As a mother, I beg you."

"I know your sorrow. The pain of watching your children leave you. Defy you. Just as I must accept that Diana is now a part of their world. So must you accept that his fate is not bound to yours."

The Queen swept away with her personal guards then, leaving her on her knees with her husband quietly, dutifully waiting with her.

"If you bear any love for me," she whispered. "See that he is safe."

"My place is by your side, wife," he said, not unkindly but she felt the sting nonetheless.

It was the not so veiled implication that she did not know her place. That she had never been true to the vows Hera had forced on her. It wasn't that she didn't love him. He had many admirable qualities, and despite being lame, he was an a generous and attentive lover. But his true passion was not with her. The flames and crafting would always be more alluring to him. He was never more powerful or fearsome than with a hammer in his hand and fires roaring all around him. Ares hadn't killed him but imprisoned him in the war. Just as all the gods came to him for their tools and weapons, Ares had needed Hephaestus' brilliance and his craft. And for all his schemes, Ares had respect for his mother and would not earn her eternal ire and wrath, by killing his brother.

Olympus had been left a barren wasteland from the war among the gods. Those that had survived had scattered, keeping hidden, tending to wounds or in fear of Ares and his followers hunting them down. Where Hephaestus had been until now he did not say but it looked as though for their future, they would both remain with the Amazons.

 

::: ::: :::

He was different. In his bones it was something he felt and just accepted. With what happened all around him, he understood it in what he saw. She had promised that he in time, and with treatment he would remember who he was. But it never came. He had flashes, brief glimpses. A woman, fierce, powerful and beautiful haunted his dreams, but upon daybreak, when he opened his eyes, he could never remember her face. It was just a tugging at the back of his mind, and this void he felt in his chest. A longing for something, it felt like he was missing something vital. Something important. He knew if only he could remember when he woke up, he'd be able to find her. This mystery woman who plagued his nights and who's vague impression of presence, like a shadow that followed his every step.

Isabel said he had survived the war. That she'd found him in an abandoned cottage. She was a woman of few words and even fewer friends. If he really could call any of her associates friends. Perhaps he was the closest she had to a friend, even though he was more of a patient than a confidant. Ludendorff had lost interest him after Isabel's memory therapy hadn't proven to be all that effective. 

No government posted of any officers missing in action that matched his description or where he'd been found, so they had no leads on that front either. He could speak and read fluent German and French. English, he had no trouble with either although Isabel like to say that his handwriting in any language was barely legible. Sometimes he had caught her watching him with careful eyes. Her eyes pinching and the fine lines in her brow wrinkled deep in thought. He often wondered if she knew more about him that she let on. But she never revealed her thoughts to him.

War came again. The signs were all there. The many suffering from famine and hunger, that fed desperation, and those that governed over them, men hungry for more power, more influence, more territory. Ludendorff had landed some paper shuffling desk job and other men visited the doctor. Some were dismissive of her value, being a woman, others pushed and only cared about results, and her concoctions grew more toxic, volatile and terrible. At the expense of her health, she did whatever they asked, however they pressed, she would give them whatever they wished and more. Throughout it all, one man kept cropping up. A charming, enigmatic man, who seemed to have an unlimited about of resources and connections. Maru would always hustle him out, or give him a job to do when the man visited but being a co-pilot that ferried supplies often meant that he wasn't always around to see who came and went from her laboratory anyway. It was only when her lungs riddled with cancer and her body failing, exposed to so many poisons over time that she confessed of her descent into madness and her regrets.

They both survived another war, but only just. Her hair streaked with grey, her face sunken and her skin almost translucent, she touched his cheek. "You told me, so many times, to stop. To forget my hate and to let go of my past. That I should let them rest in peace but I could not. When air is all I need and it escapes me, I can now see what you wanted me to see. Dr. Poision. That is what they call me. My creations kill, twist and destroy. They would have been disappointed. My mother-" her voice dropped as she struggled with her thoughts. "She was a kind soul, gentle not like me. Don't let his poison infect you, Bedouin."

It was the nickname she'd given him, since he couldn't remember his own name. Perhaps it was because he seemed to have a little of a lot of different cultures in him and he was always restless, only too happy to take to the skies and fly wherever they ordered him to go. "This war has infected us all. And if you're worried about Dhark, you shouldn't. He's always too busy keeping his shady operators in line to bother with what I'm not doing for him."

Isabel had twitched a smile at that. "You never pressed me for why the drugs never helped you," she said softly, her voice rough like she'd gargled gravel. She had a fit of coughing and the blood that stained her lips and the way her body continued to shake afterward told him she didn't have long. 

"I had it analysed years ago. It was a neural disruption drug. Coupled with hypnosis or electro-shock I assumed that it was designed for prisoner compliance or maybe mind control." Strangely he didn't hold it against her that she'd never told him. He'd investigated it himself when he'd inadvertently seen it used on someone else and having a devastating effect. He found that the dose she'd given him compared to what she manufactured for Dhark barely registered under the chemical screen.

"Why didn't you kill me for betraying your trust?"

"Watching you over the years, you are as much a prisoner of your circumstances as I am. The only difference is you lack the subterfuge to be able to make choices that won't get you killed."

He watched her battle tears and saw the effort it took to fight her emotions from overwhelming her sense of propriety. Any sign of weakness revealed in the company they kept meant someone would have leverage over you. And even now, with her clock running down, old habits stuck. "He knows you're different," she said with concern. "Just as I do. It's why he keeps you around. Since the day I found you, you have barely aged. A little grey in your hair," she said with her eyes watering again. "Don't let him take who you are-" Another round of coughing seized her and with a pained gasp her body stiffened and then shuddered in a way that stole all the warmth in his body. She was gone.

He stood slowly and with one backward glance, he left the room and closed the door behind him. He planned to leave Zurich. They had moved her base several times over the years and he'd never been far behind. There was nothing keeping him here now. He'd wanted to protect her. From others and herself, for so long. Now she was gone. She was the only one who had known him from before. The only one who cared to help him remember, even if in the beginning it had started with a lie. All ties to his past were now gone and he was truly alone. Alone with his shadows and dreams. 

 


	5. Building A Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Returning to London without Steve, she realises just how much of herself she had given to him. And how lost she feels without him.

Etta was waiting for them on the dock. She was wringing her gloved hands together and her make up didn't hide the fact that she looked pale, perhaps she hadn't slept since Sameer's phone call before they boarded the boat. She had pressed an envelope that held a key and a bundle of notes into Diana's hands before promising to speak more with her later. The package was from Steve. He had made Etta promise to look after Diana should he not return from the mission. 

It had taken a day's ride from the airfield to the only town that still had ships crossing the Northern Sea. Another three days and one stop, before they reached London. She felt stiff and had to find her legs, preferring to walk than take a drive back into the city. With negotiations continuing even after the Armistice was signed, the Ministerial office was buzzing and Etta was run off her feet answering calls to Sir Patrick's office while his replacement was filling in for him as the British Ambassador in Germany. 

It was a week before Etta could meet with her properly for tea and just debrief on a personal level. Miss Candy had refused to set foot in the pub Sameer insisted served the best beef stew in London, but they reached a happy compromise with a Parisian Inn when Diana suggested it, since it had an open piano, good ale according to The Chief and Charlie could play for them. There was lots of stories and drinks, and by the end of the evening which stretched into the early hours of the following day, she knew that Charlie had won the heart of one lovely woman, in Etta Candy.

Etta explained that she'd been so busy at Sir Patrick's office since he was declared missing in action. After having taken an emergency trip to Belgium in the hopes to intercept them before their actions could possibly dissolve the Armistice deal, over which he had been heavily invested, what Diana now knew to be an empty endeavor, misdirecting everyone from his true form and agenda, he'd left Etta to handle all his affairs. 

They all agreed before arriving, Sameer having done the bulk of the talking, that it would be best not to mention Ares a.k.a Sir Patrick’s involvement at the airfield. No one who hadn't witnessed the event for themselves would ever believe them. And Chief had been the most adamant, that Diana not reveal what she could do or what she'd really come to their world to achieve. Diana accepted their concerns but couldn't lie to Etta. She felt that Etta had been loyal to Steve and she appeared a strong and capable person. She wouldn't lie to her.

Etta had been in no condition to get herself home, so Chief and Diana had brought Etta back to the small apartment that Steve had left for her. After a long nap, Etta had roused around mid afternoon. Over tea, Diana told her everything. Remarkably Etta's response was not what the men had predicted. She had merely given her a double raised brow look and a slow once over. "Well that explains it," she said apropos. "What happened to the sword again?"

Diana smiled in relief at the absurdity of her nerves over telling Etta about herself, what really happened at the airfield and losing Steve.  She had never been a nervous or suspicious person before. This was what her mother had worried over, Man's World changing her. She frowned. She didn't want to be a woman changed. Steve had said maybe mankind were both. Capable of both good and evil. And facing Ares, seeing that scientist, she realized she was capable of anger and hate too. But she chose another path. She wouldn't kill them if there was another way. She was determined to chose love. To care for humanity, to always uphold the Amazons sworn duty to protect the world.

The sword. She remembered how reluctant she was to part with it when Steve had urged her to give it to Etta. At the time it had been difficult, more difficult that the choice to go against her mother's wishes and fight in Man's War, leave Themyscira. She had had a fleeting fear that if she lost the sword, that perhaps her choice to leave everything she had ever known would before nothing. That she would be unable to defeat Ares without the sword. But then she remembered her training. Antiope on the beach. How fierce she was in battle against men with weapons more deadly than anything they'd ever seen. Antiope used anything; sword, shield, arrows, her fists.

_"You expect the battle to be fair?"_

War was anything but fair. Innocents suffered, and men forced children to fight. Soldiers shot at the unsuspecting from hidden places. Generals sat at desks while they sent their people to the front lines. She has seen what real battle looked like and it was ugly and unjust. She wanted to stand for truth and justice. In the end she had fought without that sword. And she had stood for what she believed in. She believed that the world could be saved. That people could choose to do good. To choose love instead of hate. Her fear of being unarmed seemed so insignificant now.

"It wasn't the weapon I thought it was. My mother didn't tell me the truth of who I was. But she and my Aunt Antiope had always known. That sword wasn't the godkiller. The godkiller is me. When the enemies breeched our shores, and killed so many of my people, I knew that I had to leave Themyscira. We weren't safe from the war Steve spoke of. Antiope always believed that Ares had survived the god's war and that we would have to fight him. Her dying word was godkiller. I thought she meant I needed to take the sword. But she meant me. From a little girl she trained me. And if it wasn't for her belief in me, that I was always strong enough and her tireless effort in training me, I would not have survived that battle."

"I knew you were someone remarkable. To turn his head like that," Etta admitted frankly. "I don't know if you noticed but he didn't have any attachments. No family or significant other to speak of."

Diana felt her heart ache as she remembered all his flustered words. Not wanting to ever make assumptions about where he stood, his discomfort with physical proximity or touch. "He spoke to me of his father."

"Steven came to London when the war broke out. The Americans sent over some of their best pilots and his talent with collecting information and getting out of dangerous situations, he caught the attention of our intelligence division. He never spoke much about home, but he did say that his father had died and he was an only child." Etta stood and busied herself, collecting tea items and taking them to the small bathroom to wash up. "Do you plan to go back now that you've killed the god of War?"

Diana felt a chill go through her and turned the door that led to the balcony outside. She stood and went to look out the view of the ocean outside. "My mother made it clear that I can not return. In leaving I defied her wishes." 

Etta paused in her cleaning and looked at her sadly. "Our parents always have other plans for us. I wouldn't marry the man they chose for me. I wanted to work, earn my own way, make my own decisions, not be a little housewife and only answer to my husband." She shrugged. "I picked up a protest sign and my father banned me from ever setting foot in the house again. You'll need a job if you're going to stay, and some papers to go with your name. And a last name," she added over her shoulder, as she put her hands into the soapy water again. "Hailing from an island that must remain secret, we can't very well be calling you Princess Diana, now can we?"

"Prince," Diana said softly. "Steve introduced me as Diana Prince."

 ::: ::: :::

Etta had gotten her papers. And Sameer had introduced her to a professor of languages at Al Quaraouiyine in Morocco. He got her a job as his assistant. Henri Remmal had been his History professor when he had studied at the university and he knew that the linguistics and archaeological academic would recognise the intelligence and talent in Diana and help her gain credit for her knowledge. 

Living in the city of Fes, cataloging archaeological finds, translating scrolls and marking papers both day and night, gave her plenty to do and less time to reflect on the absences in her life. In London, everywhere she looked would remind her of Steve. Even though their time together had been brief, their shared experiences had left a profound impact on her.  Morocco was so very different both in culture and landscape that it helped dull the ache of loss. She learned new customs, and the style of dress was much less layered that British clothing, the heat meant that the fabrics were thinner, softer too. The climate was much like Themyscira but for the sand storms, and she wore her hair braided much like she had on the island.

The years passed and she experienced the fragility of human mortality again. First Charlie, and then Sameer. Etta's death hurt her the most. While she had stayed in Morocco and traveled to Egypt, Spain and Turkey and Greece, accompanying Professor Remmal on many explorations and archaeological digs, she had kept in contact with Etta calling once a month and writing letters once a week to let the other woman know of her experiences and sharing her thoughts. On Themyscira as a child, she'd had no shortage of friendly interactions. But as she grew, she began to notice a change. She had always known she was different. The first child born to an Amazon. The only child on Themyscira. As she shed the layers of childhood, and grew to adulthood, and her training became public and more rigorous, the other Amazons grew more wary of her. Watching her with careful assessment, there were whispers that turned to silence when she came into a room. There was a distance, more than just plain respect and deference due her station as princess. She knew if it weren't for her mother's nightly visits, and her Aunt's watchful care, she would have felt isolated instead of just frustrated. 

Etta was the first woman she could truly call a friend. The Amazons were comrades, sisters in duty, but she had never felt truly accepted. She had never felt like one of them. Standing over Etta's grave, beside her Charlie's only child, a tall but reedy built young man, almost a picture of his father, Diana knew that she was destined to feel this isolation forever.  There was no one like her. If the gods were out there or if there were other demigods, they were in hiding. With the threat of another war looming, she didn't blame them. 

It was difficult to find hope when mankind seemed intent on falling into the same patterns of fear and war. When prejudice, intolerance and hate were taught, instead of acceptance, shared learning and love. She struggled bitterly to help the suffering in the war. It was impossible to see the enemy. There was no right, no justice. Every side thought they were fighting for a just cause, when every day the battle became more blood, brutal and cowardly and the unsuspecting and vulnerable died.

She choose her stand in various villages in Central Africa where the way of life was a battle of survival from sun up to sun down. Oppressors soon found that rivers were policed by an angel of darkness, that would sink their boats and break their guns. Militia would have their compounds razed to the ground by a fury that moved so swiftly no man could lay a hand on her and bullets would bounce off her armor, never once breaking skin. After the second war, she returned to visit Greece, tired of the sand and unforgiving heat, and weary of quelling tribal disagreements. It was time to leave them to sort out their own troubles, the majority of the violent threats she had thrown in a prison that never let anyone out. It was a pit so deep, that it was impossible to climb out of. It would give them a lifetime to reflect on the choices they had made. Perhaps before they reached the end, they would redeem themselves.

It was at an exhibition in Athens that she found her new duty. She came across one of the tutors, she had, had as a child. Like herself, the woman hadn't aged much in the years gone by. "Mera?"

"Diana," she said warmly. "I am glad to see you well. The doves your mother sends, told me you were in Man's world. I promised I would send word if I learned of your fate."

"I thought Artemis was the only one who was free to leave Themyscira." 

Mera shook her head. "Your mother would never keep anyone from leaving. The island exists for our protection, but how are we to learn, adapt and grow if we stay forever? Once news of Ares defeat reached us, many felt safe enough to leave. I have always desired a child, as your mother had, Diana. She would not deny me that."

"You work in the museum?" Diana asked observing the ledger she carried and uniformed and neat appearance of her old tutor. 

"Yes, you remember our lessons on the Titans?" Mera queried softly. 

Diana frowned. "Mother always insisted they were all just stories."

Mera frowned. "I never approved of your mother's sheltering you from the truth."

"You knew I was a child of Zeus?"

Mera startled. "No. I knew you were special but Hippolyta never said... she always insisted you were gifted to her." She smiled widely. "Well, I have always believed the birth of every child to be a gift." She patted Diana's arm fondly. "I did not know of your true origins, what I referred to is the truth of the gods and our duty as Amazons. We were created to protect the world, but not just from war but also the threat of the gods themselves. The Titans. The gods older than Zeus. The ones that came before. Those that wounded and raged against Gaia and her children, before Zeus came and defeated them one by one with the help of his brothers. The Titans are imprisoned by pits crafted by Zeus and the keys hidden and protected by the Amazons."

"I remember. Cronus is chained in the pit of Tartarus."

"Tartarus is just one prison but they are all linked. It required a lot of power to seal them, and only one prison has to fail for all the chains to be broken. You believe Man's war to be a horror, but the devastation that the Titans would unleash would decimate all life."

Her back stiffened at the thought, she remembered the picture Ares showed her with the lasso. A lush, quiet and beautiful world. No polluted waters, no dirty streets or soot laden air. No ugly stone buildings that cut into the earth and paved forests into extinction. Ares had wanted to reshape the world. Had he planned to use the Titans to do it? He had been happy to let mankind kill each other, but what then. The Amazons would have always opposed him. He would have had to kill them all. And he would have needed an army to do it. She shook her head. Ares was dead. Whatever his plans they would have died with him. "Who would even know about the Titans? Who would try to free them? No Amazon would ever betray our sacred vow to protect the world."

"Aphrodite betrayed our protection, Hermes aided her. Artemis and Hephaestus sort solace from Man's world. We don't know how many of the gods survived the Ares' first war. Perhaps one of his sons. Or even Athena. It is said that she advocated that mankind was unworthy of the gods' protection. That humans are weak minded and easily corrupted. With Zeus gone, and no one to oppose her, she could plan to reshape the world in her own image."

Diana frowned. Aphrodite was the goddess of love. All images she'd ever seen were of a beautiful goddess, depicted with gentle eyes, flowing golden hair and surrounded by adoring animals and peaceful admirers at her feet. "How did Aphrodite betray us?"

"Hippolyta never wrote of the details. History tells of her long relationship with Ares and only hatred and enormous bloodshed was born from their union. For the safety of mankind and the Amazons she was to be imprisoned."

Diana spent the morning with Mera, and explained her work. While it intrigued her, Diana felt conflicted over her mother's judgement. How could the goddess of love have betrayed them. One thing she did understand. Love was a powerful thing. It effected a person deeply and decided their path, shaped their choices. Hate could do the same thing. Perhaps Love and Hate were opposites of the same coin. Only apathy was different. Maybe Ares and Aphrodite had been drawn to each other in that. They both felt deeply, were driven and dedicated to their cause, just motivated by opposing emotions.

Could love be manipulated, twisted into hate? She pressed her fingers into the furrow in her brow. A sharp pain twisted in her chest. She remembered watching Steve's plane explode. Understanding in that moment what he'd been telling her. That he'd been willing to sacrifice himself to save her, to save the world. The pain returned with such clarity it stole all the breath from her lungs. Tears prickled in her eyes. Yes, she remembered how easily love could be drowned by hate. If she hadn't cared so deeply it would have been easy to focus on her mission. She would have left Steve the second they set foot in London and he told her they weren't going to the war straight away. That he wasn't leading her to Ares. But she had already cared for him. He had impressed her with his courage and loyalty, fighting by her side on the beach of Themyscira. He had intrigued her further when he freely told others that she had saved him from drowning. She had never imagined that a man could profess weakness. All the texts had told her of man's pride and belief of superiority. He had always acknowledged her intellect, her strength and skills. Treated her as his equal. She missed him. All these years passed and the pain could still be so raw with a single thought. No, she could not condemn a goddess for falling in love. Ares painted an idealistic picture and he was masterful at deception. But they were a sum of their choices and those decisions had consequences. Her choice to leave Themyscira meant she could never return to the safe haven of her childhood. And now she was alone in the world. Just as Aphrodite's choice to love Ares, meant she was now a prisoner of the Amazons.

 


	6. Who Is Will Trader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's had many names but he never knew how much he wanted to be her someone until he saw her.

He had kept tabs on Dhark since before the Second World War. The man had seemed like an enigmatic and cunning individual when he'd learned of him through Maru and only seemed more so as time went on and he dug into the man's connections and interests. After learning that Dr. Isabel Maru's work had not died with her and that the mind toxins had found their way into open market, something only someone with deep pockets and illicit connections could have accomplished and escape international prosecution, he decided to dedicate his life to pursuing the man and his network, to shut him down permanently. Dhark used intimidation and leverage to get what he wanted, people he used often felt trapped with no way out. While he had never met the man face to face, he knew him by reputation. And through his extensive research and profile work, he had built a detailed account of his infamy. 

In order to avoid unwanted attention due to his unnatural longevity, he had adopted various alias along with the one Ludendorff had fashioned for him in order to participate in supply operations. Officially in German registry he was Wilhelm Schneider. His French alias was William Dumas. And his English alias was Will Trader. He had no idea what his real name was but something about being called Will felt right. His goals drove him and nothing could deter him. Not money, not women, not accolades, he's mission was to undo the damage he had let happen during the war whether by wilful inaction or forced compliance. His sense of self preservation and his desire to keep Isabel alive in the quest for answers  meant he'd seen and done things he carried an enormous amount of guilt over. While there were many he'd helped escape the ravages of war and torment, there were too many others he'd been unable to save. And in some cases he had been unwittingly complicit in their deaths. Learning too late the cargo he was ferrying or the work Isabel had completed.

Children who had been left without parents, he did his best to locate and reunite with kin. Poisons that had been distributed, he sourced the cure. He shut down any operations that he'd found in connection to the research that Isabel had done but it seemed like for every lead he followed and destroyed, another would crop up. Having heard the name Dhark whispered in association with targets of interest, he had concluded that like himself, Dhark was perhaps another individual not subject to the rigors of time. It was the only explanation he could come to that would explain why the name had survived to continue to grow his criminal network that only seemed to grow over a span of almost a century. Anyone else who'd lived beyond a century moved slower than a snail or was completely dependent on various life support systems to cling to the waking world. Not capable of fronting up to weapons deals or attending private auctions to purchase obscenely priced items.

He had informants in every major city and he had a master craftsman, demolitions expert, and IT specialist on retainer. Careful investments under the instruction of an astute banker meant that he'd built up an impressive portfolio. He'd met his current financial manager through the woman's his father. It was nice to see that trust and competency could be a family trait. His comfortable financal holdings meant that he had the freedom to fund his operations without having to regularly resort to unscrupulous means of acquiring money. He hadn't been above taking money from underworld figures when he'd interrupted their business transactions on various occasions. He only left enough behind to ensure that authorities had incriminating evidence to prosecute.

When things had gotten quiet on the biological weapons front, he'd looked into other chatter. Dhark had always expressed an interest in antiquities and he always kept an ear to the group to pick up locations that Dhark might show so he could set up a proper take down instead of always being one step behind.

Wooing the heiress to a Fortune 500 for the past two weeks had been teadious for his mental health. He'd seen the inside of more designer fashion houses and watched her spend more on shoes and bags than a family of three could use to live on comfortably for a lifetime. And one more, _"Daddy says,"_ he was sure might actually turned  his hair all gray.

The gray had started showing through a couple years ago and his temples and his beard was now peppered instead of dark. He considered dying it but one contact had commented that it suited him, made him appear confident and sexy, unafraid of showing his age. He smirked a little to himself. The woman was on retainer as his physician if he'd ever gotten so banged up that he needed help. It was rare but when they'd met he'd been stabbed from behind and would have bled out if she hadn't patched him up. She'd been a med student at the time and was the only one he trusted with some of his story. She assumed he had extremely good genes. Considering he'd barely aged in the twenty years they'd known each other.  If she knew the truth she'd probably faint from shock. Dr. Franks reminded him of Dr. Maru in that she appeared strong and determined but beneath the surface was a vulnerability that someone had exploited. Helen franks had been abused as a child had run away from home. She'd ended up in a good foster home and put herself through college, their meeting had helped her pay off her debts and build a good life for herself. She had married late in life and couldn't have children of her own but opened her home to foster kids. Her house was full of children at any given time and she was happy.

The heiress that had brought him along as her escort still hadn't returned from the bathroom. The pieces were soon to be up for auction so while she was indisposed, he did a full discreet circuit to find out which of the pieces Dhark could be interested in so he could track it. There was a large urn that had cracks in the pottery. It depicted a battle between Hercules and a Cyclops. It seemed like something that belong in a Greek museum not a private collection.

He turned around to make his way through to the area that housed the extravagant jewellery, the pieces that his mark had gushed over for the last two days and that's when he saw her.

There were few things that could cause his mind to blank. He could stand with his feet in the ocean and the sound of the waves, the feel of sand shifting between his toes and the gentle lapping against his skin would calm the chaos in his mind and slow his heart beat. Staring up a cloudless sky, far from any city where light pollution would cancel out any chance of seeing stars and he could always hear the sound of his own heart beat while he stared up at the countless stars and intricate constellations that dotted the blanket of inky blackness above him. This was a different kind of blank.

For decades he had always had flashes of memories. The sound of a laugh. A smile that could arrest you and make your heart gallop faster than a horse at breakneck speed. Skin so soft that it was like the most expensive weave of bamboo silk you'd ever touched but wrapped firm muscles and unyielding strength. Anytime he tried to chase those  memories to more they danced out of reach giving him the mother of all migraines. Sometimes there was more to the memory. A voice that was soft, elegant and had a lit in her tone that sounded middle eastern. 

_"Harder," she breathed, pressing her delicious, delectably formed lips to his throat. "I won't break."_

The woman who gracefully swept into the room from the balcony coupled with the sound of that voice in his head renedered his mind momentarily blank, his entire body hard as stone in a instant. Her eyes met his and he saw a flash of startled recognition before a mask of cool indifference settled over her face and she turned away. 

Utterly floored and in an embarrassing state of sharp arousal he scanned for an exit before a Manhattan twang had him flagging faster than under cooked soufflé. He fixed an indulgent smile on his face and snagged a flute of champagne from a passing server.

"Theresa, there you are. I thought you'd found some other unsuspecting bachelor to serve as your DUFF tonight."

His attempted self deprecating jest to distract her from his moving from hovering outside the ladies power room for her had the desired effect when she laughed and playfully batted his arm with her designer handbag. 

"You scrub up well with the sprucing I forced on you. Versace is a much better cut on you than that Hugo Boss you insisted on wearing. And I don't mind the gray. It makes you look dignified," she said, flicking at his side burns lightly with her fingertips. He did his best not to flinch away from her ministrations. Her long metallic shellacked nails were like talons and likely to endanger his eye. With careful movements, he expertly reached for her hand, and interlacing their fingers. He lead her to the case he'd spied earlier, that he was sure she'd be easily distracted by while he planted a small tracer on the case nearby that housed the urn.

As he waited for the auction to begin all he could think about was the woman in red that had perfect bow shaped lips and dark brows that framed eyes so arresting that you could barely discern the size of her pupils from the depth of her irises. The tingling awareness, his six sense of being observed, and the danger of a possible threat put him on high alert. He wasn't sure how or why, but she had recognised him and something in him said she was familiar. She hadn't said a word but somehow her face and those words in his mind blended together and at the risk of embarrassing himself again, he tightened his grip on his partner's hand reminding himself of the job he came to do.

Theresa smiled at him, her eyes crinkling at the corners. He stomach rolled. Why did it feel artificial. His mind told him he'd seen much more beautiful wrinkles before. A smile that reached her eyes and spoke of a sense of wonder and joy. An infectious and deeply humbling picture of innocence. A moment immortalised in his heart. It was powerful and tender at the same time. And he remembered the longing and pain in his heart as warring thoughts weighed on him. The regrets, the hopes, the sense of duty and also the harsh reality of their circumstances. He shook his head as he tried to hold on to the memory. Examine it more closely, find the truth, the context, find a name to go with the smile, the light giggle and the glowing skin. The auction began and the pounding at his temples grew, till he swayed a step, losing his footing.

"I'll be right back," he muttered in apology and made a beeline for the men's bathroom.

He barely made it before he emptied the meager contents of his stomach into the toilet.

 

 

 

 


	7. Blitz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve tries to figure out what Dhark had planned. And gets caught up in an dangerous situation.

Theresa, his auction date, had wanted him to come in for a drink. It had taken begging off with an early morning start and the fact he was a light weight to get away. He felt smothered in her perfume and had to wipe off lipstick from his mouth and face. He thought the high priced stuff was marketed to stay on. It tasted of grease and chemicals. 

As he drove, he called his eyes and ears. "Sully, talk to me?"

His tech specialist had been working for him for the past five years. He had met her in a dive bar and saved her from being taken by Triad thugs she had crossed by exposing their top weapons smuggler to the FBI. She had been on the WITSEC database since she was fifteen but with a habit of nosing into things she shouldn't and more talent with bits and bytes that you needed a science thesaurus to keep up with her,  she had caught the attention of the wrong people with too much power and was on the run from the government as well as international criminal organisations. She hadn't seemed to catch the memo that there was corruption in top level government in every country and you didn't want to cross their radar. 

"The tracker went live an hour ago. Which meant the buyer wanted it moved asap. It's still in transit. Once I have a location, I'll let you know."

He glance at his watch. It was past midnight. "I thought you got a job with a travel blog?" He heard a snort.

"I can write that prose in my sleep. If I could print half the stuff we investigate, I'd have a cabinet full of Pulitzers right now. Instead I have to read about my cousin's successes."

He grinned. "For all your griping you don't sound at all bitter."

There was a short silence and a soft sigh.  "The work we do saves lives. It's important. Besides we've both had our share of personal blows, and I don't envy what she's had to deal with over the past year at all. It's just sometimes, I wonder what if I'm stuck with all this. The running, hiding, fighting... not that I actually have people shooting at me like you do all the time, but you know what I mean."

"We need to get you out from behind that desk more often. If I didn't think it was too dangerous, I'd send you to Mexico to look into something for me."

"The sun will be good for me. Might actually get a tan. This wouldn't have to do with the dodgey research grant paperwork you had me read through, would it?"

"Since you know it's not on the level, then yes. Their interests could be dubious and the volunteers they listed in the trials, we couldn't find more than a handful of dead end addresses. Either their were never any trials, or the trials didn't have any surviving subjects. It warrants closer investigation."

"Then I'll go."

"Do you even have a passport?"

There was a loud snort of indignation. "How did you think I made it to Prague to bail you out when you made the mistake of trying to destroy a historical landmark in the name of global security?"

"It was a meeting place for a secret society that summoned Underworld evils."

She had the gall to laugh at him. "If you were going to bomb it, the least you could have done was plan an escape route."

"How was I supposed to know they were doing a protest rally opposite my exit?"

"All these years we've been working together and you still don't know how to scroll news feeds?"

"I don't have a smartphone," he growled.

He could just imagine her throwing up her hands. "I swear sometimes I feel like I'm trying to educate a centennial. I've taken community college classes with seventy year olds less technophobic than you."

"I use burners. I can't afford traceability. I'm not technophobic for the reasons you think, Sully. And why else would I need you if I could do it all myself?"

"Touché. I was watching the cameras by the way. Who's the Vogue worthy brunette?"

Steve almost slipped and took a red light, mistaking the gas for the breaks, instead he slammed to a stop, narrowly missing a semi barrelling by. "What?" He knew there was no covering his near miss with the sound of an angry truck horn.

He could picture her smirk. “A little sensitive, I see? Former flame?"

"When have I ever had time to date?" She couldn't be serious. Surely it was empty teasing. Not only was he never interested in the women he courted for cover purposes but he'd never given any of them reason to want to burn him. He was out of their lives as quickly as he'd come in and he never treated any of them badly, well he did capture their interest under false pretences but... okay he was a jerk. "I'll take your silence as disapproval but it's part of the job. I gather this was leading somewhere?”

"It seemed like she recognised you,” she said her voice suddenly void of all humour. “Is that going to be a problem?"

"No," he answered, though his heart screamed yes. He gripped the steering wheel harder hoping that Sully bought the lie. The woman in red was a disaster waiting to happen. Chasing shadows would only court a world of trouble. And he had enough trouble to deal with without adding the kind that could give you sleeplessness nights and dreams that would only pale in reality.

"Sure," she replied, her tone revealing that she didn’t believe him in the slightest. If Sully had a talent aside from hacking it would be sniffing out a lie like a bloodhound. "Get some sleep, and I hope you have a better exit strategy once you swipe this artefact, that doesn't involve bullets or jail time."

"Hardly sleep a wink anymore. The owls are always watching remember."

"Don't joke about that. I avoid the bird exhibits in the zoo now thanks to you. That group seem to be Athena zealots. It makes me doubt everything I learned in school about Greek mythology."

Will chuckled. "And how does that word start again I wonder?"

"Har-har, clever man. It wasn't so mythical when that assassin was throwing metal talons at us after getting shot with a full clip. I lost my favourite laptop thanks you."

The Court of Owls, they'd called themselves. Owl face masks, almost inescapable labyrinth for a base of operations and a deadly talon throwing assassin. He'd landed on their radar after he'd stopped a neurotoxin shipment that had been sent to a dock in Gotham from a private laboratory in Switzerland. He'd shut down the lab and burned all the research but not before learning they'd completed a full shipment and had a big buyer in the States.

He hadn't been State side in more than a year and since being back he'd been shot at, almost impaled, beaten to black and blue and been dosed with a mind altering hallucinogen. Thankfully all that exposure to Maru's work had seemingly strengthened his recovery response. He'd been able to shake off the drugs and fight back enough to escape. The shipment up in flames, he'd escaped Gotham and come back to Chicago to regroup. So far aside from the drug connection he couldn't find any other link tying Dhark to the group. And Sully had been completely spooked. She had lost communication with him after he got to the docks and jumped the first flight to Gotham. She'd tracked him down using a GPS chip she'd embedded in his watch. While he was upset that she had tampered with his only splurge possession, he was grateful for the rescue. Her satchel containing her faithful laptop, her lifeline to the digital world had taken two talon daggers for her trouble but they'd both lived to fight another day.

"Your antique Thomas Dale, yeah yeah I know I broke some sacred unspoken rule by touching it."

"I would never touch your babies!"

"It's a watch. I could fund at least three South African ops with that money. And I could probably find you a cheap throw away on eBay," she'd muttered under her breath.

He'd heard every word. The look he had given her had been sufficient to silence any further comment on her part but he could tell from the eye roll that she didn't understand his attachment. There was something about this watch that had grabbed him. Sure it was impractical with its fusee, key wind mechanism, but when he'd seen it, he just couldn't walk away. 

::: ::: :::

She has never been to his workspace before, and from the dank, wet and dreary look of the place, it's not somewhere designed with entertaining company in mind. It's a man cave if ever she saw one. A literal textbook description come to life.

"Is it possible that he's like you?"

Diana shook her head. "He was human. An American soldier. They never recovered his body but the poison the plane was carrying was hydrogen based, volatile and the explosion--I felt the heat from the ground."

Bruce ran facial recognition program on the image they pulled from the event. "Did you find your target?"

"He sent a stand in. I still don't know who's behind this, why they have been collecting these pieces. I have only been able to recover two of the five that have gone missing. There are seven in total. The others I have safely hidden. If he has the others and we lose the one I saw last night, then I need to find another way to warn my mother. All the birds I've sent have gone unanswered."

"They're an inter dimensional key?"

"You don't believe me?" She was used to Bruce's skepticism but she found it frustrating with all that he'd seen already. He'd battled a Kryptionan hybrid and seen what both Superman and she were capable of. He admitted to having a vivid dream of a destopian future and a giant Omega symbol. As an Amazon she had been taught all about threats from above and below. And that even the gods fears the Omega. She had always represented a figurative end of all things but Bruce seemed to believe it was a being, and entity. "Aliens, Amazons, Lost City of Atlantis but science that seems like magic is beyond your scope of belief?"

"I didn't say that. I just don't like things I don't understand. Things that can't be investigated, measured or controlled in a way I'm educated in pursuing."

"The Titans can't be controlled. That's why they're imprisoned. Someone means to release them. And I will stop them."

"Do you think your doppleganger is a friend or foe?"

"That's what I want to find out."

"Looks like he has several aliases. The oldest record here says he served as a German pilot in the Second World War."

Diana looked at the collection of dossiers and blurry images that spread across Bruce's monitor screens. "No man has lived that long unchanged."

"He could have a fantastic plastic surgeon," Bruce suggested, even though he didn't believe it himself. And his attempt at levity fell flat when he saw Diana's expression. She was pale and as still as stone. A look that was unnatural for someone who was perfectly tanned and had a fluid grace, always moving. Whether her fingers were drifting over pages or she had a pen or brush in hand. Or her eyes were taking in her surroundings, soaking in the world around her. Diana didn't do still.

Riveted and unblinking, she leaned  closer and studied the image that was the only full and clear picture of his face that they had. The one from the auction. "It can not be him."

::: ::: :::

Will had, had a hot shower and fallen asleep in an armchair when Sully called him.

"One of your profiles was flagged. One of my spy babies is already doing its thing and I'm working on a location. It's bouncing through several satellites but I'll pin it down. By the time they figure out my intrusion and work to extract my code, we will know who's on to you."

"Do you think the buyer made me?"

"Maybe it was your mystery woman," Sully said with a teasing hint to her voice.

Will ran his fingers through his hair. "Very funny. Did the shipment stop?"

"Yep, the other reason I called you. I sent the coordinates to your email and I booked you a flight on the red eye to D.C."

"Fabulous. I'll call you once I land. Has our man got the item ready yet?"

"Finished it an hour ago and it's booked on the same flight. The claim number is in your data packet. The Artist double packed it considering the last time we freighted commercial, they broke the piece beyond repair."

He groaned, feeling his hip and knee joints pop from sitting in a one position  so long. "Right. Thanks for the reminder." They'd lost the last artifict Dhark had been after because he hadn't been able to make the switch without attracting attention. Their substitute had broken intransit. Bubble wrapped, foam insulated, marked fragile and a ski had gone straight into the box, cracking the frame and slashing the painting.

The auction took place in Rome and as far as his intel revealed, it was the only period art work Dhark had ever expressed interest in. The rest of his collection screamed abstract and Art Deco. The painting had been part of a private collection on show at a special festival. It was a depiction an ancient battle of the gods on Mount Olympus.

Will wasn't too hung up over the loss. That piece hadn't seemed more than it appeared on the surface. But the fact that the asking price has been obscene and Dhark's people had seemed determined to acquire it, he had wanted to intervene. If nothing else but to put a spanner in the man's schemes. 

::: ::: :::

"I found rogue code in my system. However this guy is he has a computer specialist covering his tracks. I tried to back trace the code and all I could get was that it was imbedded into his German dossier. If it is even a legitimate profile. It's possible it was a deliberate plant but for who? The other reason I called you is this same guy checked in for a flight to D.C. His flight lands in forty minutes."

"Thanks Bruce, I can be there in ten."

He stared at his comm. She was already gone, so he couldn't ask where. Although he assumed she meant she was going to intercept her familiar face. Although he wondered how she'd managed it, not even his jet could make the trip that fast.

The screen he'd been using scrolled with streaming code as a program Lucius had built for him fixed the problem the hacker's malware had created in his system. He had no idea how much information they had seen or stolen. He had to learn more about this guy and his operation. He was sorely tempted to head to D.C himself but he held back. If Diana wanted his help she would have asked for it. He had to respect her choice to do things her own way. She understood his methods and let him work without her intervention. She deserved the same courtesy.

::: ::: :::

Steve watched the man he'd been hunting for near a century taunt him while the hanger full of armed men and women pointed guns at each themselves.

This was not what he had prepared for. This was not what he wanted. He wanted Dhark. Not more death.

"Did you think I didn't know it was you? I've been around a lot longer than you, boy."

"Why? What do you get out of this? If you kill your own people, who will work for you?"

"They're all weak. If I can't buy them, I can use them. A few little whispers and they’re running to do my bidding. I've only let you live this long out of curiosity. I should have known better. After all, it was curiosity that killed my father."

Steve hoped that his hairbreained scheme worked. When the switch didn't go as planned, he called Sully right away. His bug scanner had gone wonky and after sending her the details, she told him why. Her device picked up nano technology in the courier's body. If he posed in the driver's place, it was more than likely that Dhark would know right away. So he'd used his charm to insist he was private security from the insurance company and would not be parted from the item until it was handed to the buyer personally.

He was in disguise, or so he thought, but Dhark had recognised him on sight and order everyone to turn their weapons on him. They'd shot him several times before turning the guns on themselves at Dhark's command.

"What do I get?" he asked, standing over the spot where Will was bleeding on the ground. "Survival. There's a war coming and I plan on being on the winning side. I gave you a choice long ago. You chose wrong, brother."

He signalled with a sweep of his hand and Will could only scream as multiple shots rang out. He could see the terror on their faces, the silent screams in their throats as the guns pressed against their heads went off.

His vision grew hazy from bloodloss but he crawled, dragging his body across the floor to the boy who could be no more than a young teen. His arm had shook so badly that he missed a clean shot. From the way his head wound bled, Will didn't know if it that was a good or bad thing. He unwound his scarf and pressed it to the boy's wound. 

"Hey, hang on, kid. Look at me, don't close your eyes okay?"

He could taste blood in his mouth and the wounds in his stomach burned and pulsed. The pain was enough that he felt a cold sweat bead cross his forehead and slick over his skin, causing his shirt and coat to stick to his body. He felt the adrenaline wear off and his body begin to quake. 

The kid had to make it. Too many dead. He hadn't stopped him. His mission was more than a failure. Dhark had known who he was. Maybe this had been a trap. All this death was on him.

"Kid, don't..." Will felt his arm give under his weight. He fell to the side unable to put pressure on the boy's wound. Brown eyes stared sightless at the hanger roof. Brown eyes that reminded him of something that tore at his chest, threatening to make his heart burst right out of him. 

His vision grew darker and his ears must have been playing tricks on him because he heard boots slapping on concrete, thundering in his direction and gentle, warm hands lifted him effortlessly with a soft plea, begging, tearful, "Steve?"

 


End file.
